


In His Care

by Simple_Phrases



Category: Glee
Genre: Accidents, Age Difference, D/s, Daddy!Kink, Developing Relationship, Diapers, Infantilism, M/M, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simple_Phrases/pseuds/Simple_Phrases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Burt's death, Kurt (17) goes to stay with Blaine (28), a man Burt took under his wing eight years ago and who has been Kurt's mentor - and first crush.  When Kurt begins to suffer from nightmares accompanied by night-time accidents, Blaine is determined to do whatever he can to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my head for a while now, and while it's a loose idea, it should eventually contain all the kinks mentioned in the tags and then some. However, I do intend to write a serious and sincere story, so if you're interested in reading a bizarre combination of novel-plus-extreme-kink, please let me know so I'm motivated to continue :-)

HE WAS 14, and he was in the shop, head simultaneously bent over an engine and way up in the clouds.  He didn’t want to be doing this.  He wanted to be in his room, reading the issue of Vogue that came in the mail today.  He wanted to be in the kitchen, perfecting his mother’s recipe for Crème Brule.  He wanted to be watching a movie—either Moulin Rouge or Breakfast at Tiffany’s; at the moment he didn’t feel particular.

His father was behind him, beside him… _What are you doing?_   Too slow, too slow.  _Get back to work.  Gotta get this done before the football game comes on, Kurt, comeon, you know how to do this!_

He was eight, and he heard someone in the kitchen, shuffling, shuffling… it was Sunday, a morning for fluffy blueberry pancakes with a mug full of hot coffee.  (He was too young for coffee; his mother told him so every week.  But Sundays were special.)  He bounded out of bed, ran down stairs… and there was his father in a too-small apron, bacon burning on the stove.  _What are you doing?_ He asked in slow motion.  _Your mother is dead.  Your Mother Is Dead.  YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD!!!_

Kurt was sobbing, reaching for him… but he faded away into dust, and Kurt was alone.

He was three, and he slid into his mother’s heels, took one step, another.  Wobble wobble wobble wobble.  He stumbled down to the ground.  _What are you doing Kurt, comeon?_ His father said with an anxious chuckle.  _He’s just a boy_ , his mother said.  _Just a little boy, he doesn’t know any better_ …

He was flat on his back; he was crying, crying, crying.  _Come and get me, I need you!_   He tried to scream.  _Come and get me, come back, I need you!_

*******

Kurt cried out in his sleep, tangled up in his sheets, tears staining his contorted face.  He didn’t wake.  He rolled over and fell silent.

Blaine stood in the doorway, watching.  He couldn’t see the wet blossoming over Kurt’s blankets, but unbeknownst to Kurt, he knew it was happening.  He knew it had been happening almost every night since Kurt came to stay with him.

Since Kurt’s father—Blaine’s former boss—passed away.

Blaine sighed, rubbing at his eyes, wondering not for the first time what, if anything, he should do.  He didn’t want to embarrass Kurt by drawing attention to his problem.  He didn’t want to get further into this than he could handle, either. 

He just wanted Kurt to be okay again.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear... this is going to get significantly kinky, eventually. I will be sure to warn for any hard kinks as they pop up, but I wanted to let everyone know so they wouldn't be caught off guard and get angry. But that said, there will be a lot more to this story, and Klaine's relationship, than kink.
> 
> Also, I don't have a beta for this, so please feel free to let me know if you notice anything off!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for the kudos and comments; they really make me feel good :-)

Kurt had been staying with Blaine for three weeks now, and he liked it, but it wasn’t home.  He liked Blaine… at least as much as he could like anyone right now.

He remembered when he used to like _like_ Blaine.

He remembered when he was nine and Blaine showed up at his father’s shop one day, looking small and out of place and ridiculously handsome in his grey coveralls.  How his father had nodded at Blaine, so serious, had spent an entire week showing Blaine the ropes.  He remembered when Burt introduced them, a slight frown on his face when Kurt proudly showed Blaine his _Glinda_ Barbie doll, and Blaine’s face had lit up; he’d laughed, said he loved The Wizard of Oz.

After Kurt came out and the phone calls started trickling in, Blaine had gone to Burt, had told Burt he was gay.  He’d offered to serve as a mentor to Kurt, and Kurt’s dad had decided that sounded like a good idea.  Blaine took Kurt out for coffee, and they talked, really _talked_ ; Blaine really listened.  Kurt’s distant admiration had bloomed into a crush, then a bigger crush, then true love.

He’d never told Blaine that.  He never would.

Kurt wasn’t sure what to say when Blaine was there on the day they read Burt’s will, wasn’t sure what to make of it when Burt left ownership of his mechanic’s shop to Blaine.  Blaine, who took Kurt for coffee, who played bars and coffee shops on the evenings and weekends, determined not to give up his dream, who had small, square hands with fingers that were calloused from his guitar strings and permanently stained with grease from the cars he fixed. 

Kurt had dreamed of those hands cupping his face, folding into his, guiding him through a dance.

Those dreams had ended with Burt’s death, with his final words to Blaine, written in his will: _please look after my son._

Now Kurt dreamed of his parents, of memories and failure and death.  There was no reprieve.  For several mornings now he had awoken to itchy, damp pants and stained sheets, had flushed with embarrassment, had sworn he wouldn’t sleep at all the following night. 

Eventually, he always did, and the cycle would repeat.

Kurt wanted his father back.  He wanted to flee to Blaine’s room, crawl into his bed and under the covers, curl up into his side and cry.

He held back his tears as he stripped his bed, made it up again, padded down the hallway to put his soiled sheets into the washer and then to the bathroom for a shower.

Blaine could never know.

*******

It had been a few weeks since Kurt moved in, and Blaine was at a loss as to what to do with him.  Despite their amicable past, Kurt remained stubbornly withdrawn.  He didn’t talk about Burt’s death.  He didn’t talk about anything, really.

He especially didn’t tell Blaine about the nightmares or the accidents, but Blaine knew that it was a persistent problem, that it wasn’t getting better.

He tried talking to Kurt.  He tried bonding activities, like baking and musicals and inside jokes.  When that failed, he finally resorted to less direct methods.

He knew it was corny, but he slipped little notes full of encouragement and inspirational quotes into Kurt’s lunchbox, his shoulder bag, the pockets of his clothing.  When Kurt said nothing after a week of this, he grew more aggressive, leaving little post-its and presents for him to find around the house.  A new bottle of his favorite skin cream.  A single yellow rose.  An antique brooch Blaine had picked up on a whim at a yard sale.  Little things to show that he was there and that he noticed.  To show how much he _cared_.

When Kurt came down from school one morning wearing the brooch, Blaine couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thank you,” Kurt said softly, catching his eye as he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. 

There was a lump in Blaine’s throat when he answered: “You’re welcome, Kurt.”

It was a start.

********

Blaine was wonderful.

Kurt had been trying so hard to adjust to this switch in their relationship dynamic, to come to terms with the fact that he was abruptly _living_ with the man who had been his mentor and secret crush for several years.  It was a lot to manage on top of his grief.

He knew he was handling things poorly through avoidance.  But it came so naturally to him; it felt easy, gave him a comforting façade of control.  It got him through.

When the gifts started, though… it amazed Kurt that somehow, Blaine had found a way to make him smile, to make his heart skip a beat, even amid the darkness that now seemed to consume his life.  

And yeah, Kurt was maybe kind of still a bit in love with him, as much as he tried to fight it, as much as he knew he shouldn’t be.  A boy could dream… especially about a gorgeous man he now saw every morning and evening, in sleep pants and shirts that rode up his torso when he stretched, revealing his slender waist and a thin trail of dark hair that lead down to… well, he hadn’t seen that part yet, and he probably wouldn’t ever, but it was a nice thing to think about all the same.

Unfortunately, the resurgence of his crush only made Kurt more anxious that Blaine would find out about Kurt’s little problem.

And then came the day he arrived home from school to find the most humiliating gift ever in his room…

He dropped his bag and stood there in shock, staring at package, heart pounding and blood rushing to his face.

Blaine knew.  Blaine knew Blaine knew Blaine knew, how could he possibly know?  Kurt had been so careful.

There was a note.  Slowly, he forced his limbs to move, stepping forward to gingerly pluck the notecard from the box.

_Dear Kurt,_

_I know you’re probably freaking out right now, and I’m really sorry about that.  I know how embarrassing this must be for you, but I want you to know that I’m not judging you.  I never would.  I just wanted to find a way to help, and this is the best I could come up with._

_We don’t ever have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you have any questions or concerns, or if you… well, if you need help.  I really care about you, Kurt.  You’re an amazing person, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed.  Bodies do weird things sometimes._

_And, umm… I suppose you’ll need to let me know somehow if things persist and you need more, but I went to Sam’s Club, so these should last for a while._

_I guess I’ll shut up now._

_~Blaine~_

Kurt inhaled sharply, placing Blaine’s note carefully on his nightstand.  He picked up the box, examined it, eventually pulling one out.

Blaine wasn’t wrong in thinking this would be helpful.  But… could he do it?  Was it something he could live with?

Considering how changing his bed each morning was significantly disrupting his daily routine _and_ the effort Blaine had put into getting him these (he actually had to _buy_ them,) Kurt figured he didn’t have much choice.


	3. Chapter Two

Kurt gave Blaine no indication whatsoever that he had found the diapers, let alone whether or not he had chosen to use them.  Blaine had expected that, really, and besides: it wasn’t his business.

Only he couldn’t stop thinking about it, wondering, _fixating_.  He wondered if Kurt was using the diapers, if he still needed them, if he would eventually ask Blaine for more.  He pictured the boy, a diaper secure around his narrow hips, bulging under his sleep pants, sagging from use as he tugged at the tapes in the morning and...

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like that.  He couldn’t be thinking like that; he was Kurt’s guardian; Kurt was only seventeen!

And things were going so well.  Kurt was starting to open up a bit, to chat with him in the mornings and over dinner, to laugh with him while they sat on opposite ends of the couch watching bad reality TV, to actually provide an answer when Blaine asked him _“How was school?”_   It wasn’t much, nothing deep yet, nothing that even approached the nature of their relationship before.  But it was a start, and Blaine would take it.

He made it a week before his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself creeping into Kurt’s room one night, peering over his bed as he slept.  It was no matter, though—he couldn’t tell a thing from where Kurt was curled up under the blankets.  Muffling a sigh, he turned to trail his eyes around the dim room.  If he was a teenage boy hiding a bag of diapers, where would he keep them?

He zeroed in on the closet, noting that the door was securely closed, remembering the way it creaked when you forced it open.  Too risky.

He tiptoed through the open door of the dark attached bath instead, feeling around in the small linen cupboard.  His hands landed on a pair of towels and then he felt it—a box.  _The_ box, though he couldn’t be sure without turning on the lights.  He reached inside, hand hovering in dead air.  He’d used some, then… probably about half by now, if he’d been wearing one every night.

Satisfied and more than a little guilty, Blaine left the bathroom.  He meant to return to his room and try to get some sleep, like he should be doing at nearly three-thirty in the morning.  But Kurt had rolled onto his side, was whimpering and clutching his blanket, his beautiful face illuminated in the moonlight.

It was a little after five when Blaine finally crawled into bed, exhausted and half-hard and hoping vainly that two hours later, when their eyes met over the breakfast table, Kurt wouldn’t notice a thing.

*******

Kurt woke up one morning—a little more than a week after he’d begun wearing diapers—feeling particularly refreshed.  He wasn’t sure, but he thought his dreams were relatively pleasant last night, if he had any dreams at all.

More importantly, he was dry, though his bladder felt full to the bursting.

It was nice, familiar, a little like before.  Kurt smiled, allowing himself a few moments to burrow under the blankets, warm and content.  He climbed out of bed, stretching his arms up to the ceiling.  He thought about straightening out his sheets but decided against it.  He _really_ needed to get to the bathroom.

In the hallway, he ran into Blaine.  Literally.

“In a hurry this morning?” Blaine said, offering Kurt a warm, amused smile.

“Yes.  No!  I just need the restroom….”

“Oh,” Blaine said, eyeing him up and down.  He looked back up, meeting Kurt’s eyes, a spark of surprise in his own hazel irises.  “Kurt, are you… dry?”

Kurt felt his face flush hot at the first verbal acknowledgment of his little _problem_ , but he nodded all the same.

“That’s… fantastic.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, looking down.

“Great!

“Yes, yeah.  I just need to… if you’ll excuse me…”

“Oh, sorry!” Blaine said, his own cheeks darkening. 

He stepped aside, allowing Kurt to walk past him, fighting the urge to grab his crotch.  He could make it.  Of course he could make it.

“You could have just, you know, gone when you woke up,” Blaine spat out, just as Kurt reached the bathroom’s doorway.

Kurt didn’t know what to say to that, so he closed the door, practically ripping off his diaper.

He made it just in time.

*******

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , Blaine chanted to himself as he waited for Kurt to come down for breakfast.  What the hell was he thinking, saying something like that?  Things were already awkward enough for Kurt, between him and Kurt.  Now what would the poor boy think?

Certainly not that Blaine had some kind of odd, vaguely taboo fetish.  Certainly not the truth.

He hoped.

Kurt walked into the kitchen, impeccably dressed as usual, and took the seat across from him, reaching for the box of cereal and pouring some into the bowl Blaine had set out for him.

“I’m, uh, sorry.  About this morning.”

Kurt finally looked at him—just looked, arching one eyebrow in bemused judgment.

“I know we haven’t talked about that before.  And I just want you to know that, we don’t have to!  Talk about.  That.  And I’m just making this even more awkward, aren’t I?”

“It’s a gift,” Kurt said, offering him a wry smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said.”

After that they were silent, and Blaine tried his best not to stare at Kurt too long or too funny as the boy ate neatly and methodically, keeping his eyes carefully to his meal. 

Kurt hesitated as he made to leave the house, lingering in the doorway and looking vaguely uneasy as he shifted the bag on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, too,” he said, forcibly meeting Blaine’s eyes.  “And grateful.”

By the time Blaine managed to mumble the words _you have nothing to be sorry for_ , Kurt was already gone.

*******

Kurt woke up wet again the next morning, but he was dry again the two days after that.  To his surprise, he found he almost missed the feeling of a wet diaper.  It didn’t get as cold as you’d think when you were snug in bed, and there was something about the security of it, just knowing it was there and he didn’t have to worry.

There was also something almost… naughty… about it, but Kurt didn’t want to dwell on that.

What he did find himself dwelling on was Blaine’s statement a few days prior.  Why didn’t he just go when he woke up?  What would it be like if he did?  _Mortifying_ , was the first word that sprang to mind.  _Utterly humiliating._   But…

Blaine had blushed, seemed a little too interested; Kurt hadn’t missed that.  Did he… did he like it?  Did he want Kurt to use his diapers, did he want to _see_ it?

Kurt felt his body go hot with embarrassment (and maybe a smidgen of desire) just thinking about it. 

One thing was for sure: Blaine didn’t seem to mind that Kurt needed diapers.  It didn’t bother him.  And maybe, if there was a possibility that this was something Blaine liked, Kurt could be okay with that.  It wouldn’t hurt to try, test the waters a little.

But not if he couldn’t bring himself to do it on his own first.

_Well_ , Kurt thought to himself, _now’s your chance_.

He closed his eyes, fisted his sheets, and tried to relax.  It wasn’t as easy as he expected, doing this on purpose.  It didn’t just happen.

Until, eventually, it did.

It started slowly, just a trickle.  Kurt concentrated on maintaining the pressure, and soon it was gushing out of him in a steady stream.  It was odd, feeling the hot urine splashing against his skin, over his balls, into every crevice it could reach before it was absorbed by the soft material of his diaper.  He’d never been awake for that part before.

Kurt thought he liked it.

And maybe—with any luck—Blaine would, too.


	4. Chapter Three

Blaine spent a lot of time over the following week thinking about Kurt and his feelings for Kurt.  Not thinking about it didn’t seem to be working, after all, and now that their relationship appeared to be blossoming once more into… something… he figured he had better be the adult and figure it out.

But that was just the problem.  He was an adult, and Kurt was not. 

Things had been less complicated when they were just friends, back before Burt died.  Blaine had been good at keeping their relationship compartmentalized into _MENTOR – SON OF YOUR BOSS_ – and leaving it at that.  He had never anticipated this, Kurt in his home and so thoroughly engrained in his life.  Kurt in his kitchen, on his couch, in his _shower_.

Now that Kurt was beginning to come out of the shell of his grief, it was as easy as it had always been to fall into a companionable friendship with the boy.  Only now, the boundary lines were blurred.  Blaine didn’t know what he was supposed to be for Kurt.  He only knew that his feelings were beginning to drift towards… well, something considerably less than kosher. 

Blaine was entranced by him, by his grace and his strength, his sarcastic wit and his kindness.  More than that, his eyes hadn’t failed to notice the way Kurt’s oversized sweaters tended to slip, exposing the pale jut of his shoulder, nor the way his pants so often hugged his legs like a second skin, nor the narrowing line that drew attention to his slender hips.  And then there was his face, his beautiful, ever-changing eyes that would occasionally fall into vulnerable softness in moments when he forgot himself.  The gentle slip of his smile, the turn of his nose, the perfect cut of his jaw and cheeks.

Kurt was breathtaking, and Blaine was only human.

He was slipping, his resolve weakening.  He wasn’t sure how Kurt felt, but he knew that no matter what, he would remain steadfast in this: the first move, if it ever happened, would be Kurt’s to make.

What he refused to ponder any longer was the diapers.  Yes, that had been a thing for him since he was a teenager—not a fetish, per se, but certainly a kink.  He had always kept it to himself, to the privacy of his relationship with his computer, leaving it out of all other intimate encounters.  He couldn’t explain to himself why the thought of taking care of someone completely, of someone surrendering control of everything—including when and how they managed the most basic functions of their body—was so seductive to him on both a sexual and a nurturing level, so he most definitely couldn’t begin to explain it to someone else.  He was too afraid of facing their rejection, their disgust; he’d gotten far too much of that in life by simply being gay.

And Blaine could live quite happily without it.  There were many things he needed from a romantic relationship, and that didn’t even begin to make the list.

But now there was Kurt: someone who seemed to share many interests with him, to be good and kind, to possibly want the same things out of life that Blaine wanted.  Someone Blaine could see himself trusting, letting into his life and his heart.  What’s more, he was living in Blaine’s house, _wetting himself_ , on an almost nightly basis.

And he was far, far too young.

Blaine didn’t let himself think about the diapers.  But thoughts and images plagued his mind, all the same.

*******

Kurt had decided to do it, but he couldn’t just _do it_.  He kept convincing himself he needed to practice more, and he did practice, every morning that he woke up dry.  It got to the point where he was perhaps enjoying the habit a bit too much, and he definitely wasn’t ready to examine that yet.

The thought of Blaine watching him, sharing this with him, enjoying it was thrilling.  Everything about Blaine was thrilling these days, his old crush flaming back with even more heat and vivacity in spite of his attempts to keep it at bay.  He wasn’t much motivated to deny his feelings anymore.  Blaine had become his reason for waking up in the morning, his sole source of joy.  He still hadn’t managed to re-engage with his friends, with Glee club or academics, though he was forcing himself to trudge through the latter because logically, he knew that there was something ahead that he’d been fighting for: school, New York, the chance of a better place, a better life in which he would be fully embraced as himself.

But those things didn’t seem to matter so much now.  Here with Blaine, inside these walls, he was safe and cared for.  If only he could make Blaine love him—really _love_ him—he wouldn’t need any of those other things.

Those dreams, it seemed, had died along with his father.

He had to do it.  He had to man up (man down) and just do it.  What did he have to lose?  Logic stemming from Blaine’s reaction last week told him that at the very least, Blaine wouldn’t be repulsed.

Logic told him it was worth the risk.

So the next morning when his bladder woke up screaming, Kurt didn’t linger in bed and give in to blissful release, nor did he go running for the bathroom.  He grimaced, clenching his muscles almost painfully, and padded downstairs still in his pajamas.

Blaine was at the stove, bacon and eggs sizzling in the skillet, still dressed in only boxers and a t-shirt.  If Kurt’s body weren’t so distracted by his own desperation, he was certain it would be showing a little excitement at that. 

Blaine didn’t seem to hear Kurt enter the room, so Kurt said a soft, “Good morning,” feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Kurt!” Blaine said, turning around with a huge grin on his face, his spatula suspended comically in the air.  Sometimes Kurt really hated him for being such a morning person.  “Good morning!”  The corners of his mouth slowly dipped in confusion as he took in Kurt’s outfit, the way he was fidgeting too-quickly from one foot to the next.  “You’re not dressed.”

“No, I umm… I thought I’d eat first this morning, if that’s okay.  Yesterday I got sausage grease on the sleeve of my jacket.”

“Right.  Well, I’ll be finished with the food in just a moment, but until then you can help yourself to the cereal.”

Kurt nodded, mentally kicking himself when Blaine turned back to the food.  He’d missed his opportunity, and he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it.  Besides, distracting Blaine right now would only make him burn their breakfast.

So he fumbled with the cereal box, legs shaking, pouring a bowl for himself and heading to the fridge for the milk.  Movement helped.

He was placing the cap back on the milk carton when Blaine finally switched a knob on the stove and moved the pan aside, turning back around, his eyes meeting Kurt’s.

Kurt’s face flushed hot as he held Blaine’s gaze, fists clenching in the material of his pajama bottoms.  Blaine’s brow furrowed in concern and confusion as his eyes fell, traveling down and up Kurt’s body as if searching for the problem, and Kurt could see that there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

He couldn’t hold it anymore even if he wanted to.  He took a deep breath and relaxed his bladder. 

He wasn’t even sure Blaine could see it happening, but as soon as it started, he wasn’t thinking so much about that.  His eyes fluttered closed at the instant heat and relief and comfort that accompanied his release.  It was a lot this morning, going on and on, and Kurt was sure that by now Blaine was at least suspicious.  He could feel his diaper puffing up, growing larger under his pants.

The flow began to dwindle, and Kurt dared to open his eyes.  Blaine was staring at him, at his crotch, with his mouth open in awe, one hand cupping and stroking himself.  He startled, jerked his hand away immediately when he saw that Kurt was watching.  “Kurt, I… did you…”

Kurt flushed, smiled a little shyly, and nodded.

To his dismay, however, Blaine only looked more panicked.  “You—I—I need to go,” he finally said, and spun around, making a beeline down the hallway.

“Blaine!” Kurt called out, fear shooting through him like a lightning bolt to the heart.  What if Blaine was grossed out by him now?  What if Blaine hated him, and Kurt had made a huge mistake?

Blaine didn’t listen, didn’t turn back, and to Kurt’s horror, he could feel tears of humiliation and remorse prickling at his eyes.  What was with him, lately?  He was a basket-case.

A teenage basket-case in a sodden, drooping diaper. 

Devastated, Kurt slowly trudged his way to the bathroom.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I think (hope) you guys will like it! I really appreciate all the support you've been sending my way; it's a great motivator and also just feels nice :-) Next chapter is underway and should be out this weekend. I think most weeks, you can expect approximately two chapters a week from me.

Kurt had curled up in bed after finishing in the bathroom, alternating between crying and freaking out.  He was still there when Blaine wrestled up the courage to knock on his door nearly three hours later.  He didn’t move, didn’t answer, simply listened as the door was slowly pushed open, listened to Blaine’s soft footsteps as he tentatively approached the bed.

“Kurt?” he called softly.  Kurt could hear something like remorse in his voice.  “Are you awake?”

Kurt didn’t feel like answering, so he merely nodded, not caring whether or not Blaine could see him.

The bed bounced a little with Blaine’s weight as he took a seat at the bottom Kurt’s mattress.  “We need to talk.”

Kurt didn’t respond for a very long time, until the quiet grew onerous and overcame his desire to disappear.  “I’m listening,” he finally managed.

“About what you saw earlier.  Me, umm… me touching…” he cleared his throat.  “That was inappropriate of me, and I’m sorry.  I want to assure that it won’t happen—“

“Wait,” Kurt said, not at all expecting to hear what Blaine had just disclosed.  As soon as he spoke the word, he realized he wasn’t sure how to continue.

Eventually, Blaine picked up the conversation.  “It won’t happen again. I was out of line.  I’m not sure what you were thinking, or what you’re thinking now, but you can feel free to tell me, whatever it is, and we’ll work it out together.”  He paused, as if waiting for Kurt to interject.  He didn’t.  “If you don’t feel comfortable living with me anymore—“

“You were disgusted with me,” Kurt blurted out.  “That’s what I was thinking, why you ran off…”

“Oh, no!” Blaine said, quickly and with more confidence than before.  “No, Kurt, I was… No.  Quite the opposite, actually.”

Kurt shifted around a bit, enough to steal a quick peek at Blaine’s face.  He looked almost bashful, uncertain in a way Kurt had never seen him before, his cheeks flushed pinkish-red.  “I thought that, well, maybe I shouldn’t have done that.  That I’d miscalculated.  I was ashamed,” Kurt admitted.

“ _I_ was ashamed,” Blaine added.

Silence fell between them once more, and then… Kurt laughed, the ridiculousness of their mutual misunderstanding overcoming him.  The sound of it was soft at first—merely a giggle—but the feeling built in his gut until it was much, much louder.  When it finally faded away, he sat up in the bed, leaning back against the headboard and hugging his knees, a hint of a good humor lingering on his face.  He bit his lip when he found Blaine watching him, seemingly perplexed.  “You reacted exactly how I wanted you too,” he said a bit shyly, “until you ran away.”

“I wasn’t running from you,” Blaine said.  “I was running from me.  How I reacted.  I’m your guardian; it’s not appropriate to—“

“I’ve been telling myself the same thing for so long,” Kurt said.  “But it’s not working, is it?  That’s not what we want from each other.”  He paused, then, “Please say something.”

“You’re not wrong,” Blaine admitted, looking him in the eye.

“I’ve liked you since we first met,” Kurt confessed, voice hushed.  “There have been others, but…”

“You’re just so young,” Blaine blurted out, sounding as though he was speaking more to himself than to Kurt.  “You’re so young, and, and _gorgeous_ , and… I never let myself go there before, but now that you’re here in my home and I’ve had to let you in… I want you,” he finished brokenly.  “And I hate myself for it.”

“Maybe you should stop,” Kurt suggested softly.

“Stop wanting you?”

“No,” Kurt said.  “Stop hating yourself.  Because I want you too—not like that,” he clarified quickly.  “Or, yes, that, eventually, but…”

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine said, “I know what you mean.”  He sighed.  “So what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.  What do people usually do when they like each other?”  He couldn’t help but smile a little, his question a bit of a tease.

“They date,” Blaine said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as well.  “Are you hinting at something, Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt full-out grinned, then, and shook his head.  “Blaine Devon Anderson, will you go on a date with me?”

“I shouldn’t,” Blaine said.

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a guilty ‘yes’,” Blaine clarified.

“We can work on the guilt,” Kurt said with a shrug.

“One condition: I’m taking you out.  Friday night, because of school.  This will be your first date, no?”

Kurt nodded.  “I suppose I can consent to that.  But you better take me somewhere nice!”

“Only the best,” Blaine promised.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Kurt’s heart pounding because it seemed very much as though Blaine maybe-possibly-might be about to kiss him.

Then Blaine stood.  “I need to get into the shop,” he said.  “I kind of left the boys in a bind this morning.  See you at dinner?”

Kurt nodded again, his eyes following Blaine as he crossed the short distance to the door.  He had nearly left when it occurred to Kurt, through his haze of happiness, that he and Blaine had forgotten to talk about what had happened that morning.  To any reasonable end, at least.  It would be so much easier—and less humiliating—to leave things be, but he knew that wasn’t the wisest option.  “Blaine!” he called out.  “Aren’t we going to talk about…” he felt the blood rush to his face and had to fight a sudden urge to dive back under the safety of his blankets.

“We’ll have to,” Blaine said.  “But—later?  After our date?”

The temporary respite was a little too tempting, so Kurt agreed.

“And Kurt,” Blaine added, “don’t think you can get away with missing school again.  I’m still responsible for you.  This was a one-time thing, you hear me?”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Yes, father,” he said mockingly.  Inside, his heart gave a tiny twang.

Blaine sounded a bit too much like Burt.


	6. Chapter Five

Friday night came too quickly and not nearly fast enough.  Kurt rushed home from school, knowing all too well it would take him forever to get ready.  He’d chosen an outfit after much deliberation the night before, but there was always the chance he might change his mind again.

His body thrummed with excitement as he showered, did his hair, tried on at least eight different sets of clothes before finally deciding to wear the outfit he’d already picked.  He glanced at the clock.  Blaine had said six-thirty, and it was now a quarter after.  But he’d been warned (and very well knew) that sometimes things ran over at the shop.

He paced in his room for the next half an hour, his anticipation taking a more anxious turn with so much time to think.  What if Blaine had forgotten?  (He hadn’t—there had been a sweet little note tucked into the folds of his coat this morning that read _Looking forward to tonight, cutie_ , with a little smiley emoticon.)  What if Blaine had decided he was too young, or this was too inappropriate?  What if he looked too young, and it scared Blaine off?  He did a once-over in the mirror for at least the fiftieth time.  He looked good, at least his age if not older.  Surely Blaine would text him if he’d changed his mind.

What if they went out, and things went horribly, and Kurt embarrassed himself and they had nothing to talk about and Blaine decided he didn’t like him after all?  What if—

A knock sounded at his door.  “Kurt?” Blaine called.  “Kurt, are you ready?”

Kurt took a deep breath and opened the door.  Blaine looked stunning in tight navy pants, a plaid button-up paired with a neat bowtie.  His hair was slicked back as Kurt had only seen it once—at his father’s funeral.

“Wow,” Blaine said, eyes roaming up and down Kurt’s body before he seemed to catch himself and focused on Kurt’s face instead. “You look fabulous, Kurt.”

Kurt flushed.  “Thank you,” he said lamely.  “You too.”

“Are you ready to go?”  Blaine offered up his arm, bent at the elbow, like a true gentleman.

“Yeah,” Kurt said, a little dazed.  “Yes.”

He threaded his arm through Blaine’s own, allowing Blaine to escort him through their home.

*******

Blaine watched Kurt as he studied the menu, pleased that his choice of restaurant had worked out.  Although he’d purposely searched for someplace out of town for obvious reasons, the French bistro he’d ended up choosing was borderline too far for an evening out at just over an hour away.  He’d acquiesced, however, because he was certain Kurt would love it.

Thankfully, he was right.

“Are you staring at me?” Kurt asked, meeting Blaine’s eyes over his menu.

“Maybe.”  It’s not like he could read his own menu, even if he wanted to.  “What are you having?”

“I think I’m gonna go with the ‘Blanquette de Veau’” Kurt replied, smiling at Blaine as he closed his menu.  “Do you already know what you want?”

Blaine frowned, glancing down at the sleek hunter-green folder lying in front of him—untouched—on the table.  “I’ll just have that as well.”

Kurt laughed.  “Are you sure?  Or maybe you just don’t know how to read the menu!”

Blaine cracked a smile, lifting his eyebrows as he confessed to Kurt, “You got me.”

“Well, then, can I help?” Kurt asked, waiting for Blaine’s nod of assent.  He opened the neglected menu in front of Blaine, reading the words upside-down.  “’Blanquette de Veau’ is a veal stew.  It’s quite good.  But they also have simpler things—there’s a half-chicken roasted with garlic.  Oh, and ‘Bouillabaisse’: that’s a classic seafood dish.  They have duck, lamb, fish, vegetarian… what do you feel like?”

“Beef?” Blaine suggested.  “But not like, baby cows.  Sorry.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “I suppose I can forgive your lack of culture.  Oh, I know!  There’s ‘Boeuf Bourguignon’, aka beef stew.  It’s divine.”

“Fine,” Blaine said.  “You’re the expert.  I guess this was a good choice?”

Kurt positively beamed.  “It’s perfect, Blaine.  Thank you.”

The waiter came for their orders, which Kurt delivered in perfect French.  Blaine didn’t know if he was more impressed or aroused by the way the smooth, flowing words slid from Kurt’s tongue.  He swallowed thickly as the waiter finally left, Kurt’s gleeful face turning back to him once more, such a strange combination of cultured maturity and giddy child.

Blaine twisted in his seat, his slacks feeling a little tight.

“Is everything alright?” Kurt asked.

“Perfect,” Blaine replied honestly.  “This was definitely worth the drive.  I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since…”  Kurt’s face fell, and Blaine bit his tongue, instantly regretting his words.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

Kurt shrugged, busying himself with straightening the array of silverware next to his plate.  “Don’t be.”  He reached for his glass of sparkling cider, taking a long sip.  “Dad’s dead; it happened.  And now we’re here.”  He smiled again, but it seemed forced.

“Yes,” Blaine said, reaching for his hand across the table, their fingers hooking together.  “Yes, we are.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then Kurt squeezed his hand and released it, drawing his shoulder’s back and sitting a little taller.  “So,” he said.  “Tell me about yourself.”

The corners of Blaine’s mouth twitched in amusement.  “Going for the classics, are we?  Alright.  What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Kurt said, resting his chin in his palm and gazing at Blaine intently.  “What was your life like before you came to work for Dad?”

“Wow,” Blaine said.  “You don’t start with the easy ones, do you?”

“I’m sor—“

“Don’t be.  It’s a fair question.”  Blaine sighed.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want Kurt to know about his past; it was simply something he chose not to dwell on.  But this was only a first date, he reasoned.  No one would blame him for going with the abridged version.  “My family was fairly well-off.  Not bad people, just what you’d expect: a little stuck-up, a little distant.  They weren’t too happy with the lifestyle I’d chosen—the gay thing, or the career,” he clarified when he saw Kurt looking at him curiously.

“They didn’t want you to be a mechanic?”

Blaine chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.  “ _I_ didn’t want to be a mechanic,” he clarified.  “I wanted to be a musician.  They told me that if I chose to pursue that as a career, I’d have to work my own way through school.”

“Wow,” Kurt said.

“Yeah.”  He shrugged.  “My older brother is an actor; he didn’t even go to college, so…  My sister is the winner of the family, I suppose.  She’s a doctor in New England, although she mostly teaches med students, now.”

“How do you go from musician to mechanic?”

“I guess the best thing to say is that I got myself in a tight spot.  Nothing quite worked out the way I wanted it too.  I wanted to move to New York, but I ended up in Columbus at Ohio State because it was cheaper.  I did fine there for five quarters… but then my debt got too heavy, so I decided to take a break and earn some money.”  He shrugged.  “I never went back.  I had a band for a while, but it fell through.  I had a falling out with the guys, and they kicked me out of our apartment.”

“That’s a rough deal,” Kurt said sympathetically.

Blaine nodded.  “My parents live in Westerville, so I went to live with them again… only they wouldn’t take me in.”

Kurt looked flabbergasted.  “They wouldn’t—“

“No, it’s cool though.  I was an adult, and I knew they’d always had high standards.”  Kurt still seemed skeptical, but Blaine pressed on.  “Your dad found me at a Denny’s just this way of 70.  Said I looked down on my luck and bought me a burger.  We got to talking.  He told me he’d been in Columbus buying _Beauty and the Beast_ tickets for his kid.  Before I knew it, over an hour had passed and he was offering me a job.  I took it.”

“And the rest is history,” Kurt said.

“And the rest is history,” Blaine repeated.

“I don’t get it, though.  Why didn’t you ever look for something else?  Start another band?  You can’t possibly like being a—I’m sorry,” Kurt said, catching himself.

“No, don’t be.  I did, I—I just kind of gave up.  Your dad always paid me decent, and once I got my own place and got settled, I just didn’t feel like trying for anything more.”

“And now you have me,” Kurt said, giving Blaine a look that he knew was intended to make him smile again.

It wasn’t so hard, not with Kurt there.  “I do.  And that’s—you’re a blessing, Kurt.  I just worry that if this,”—he gestured between the two of them—“if _we_ become something, well… one day you’re gonna get older and realize what a disappointment I am.”

“Well, let’s see,” Kurt said, half-playfully.  “You’re good and kind and have a huge heart.  You have an adorable taste in clothing.  You’re dashingly handsome.  You’re thoughtful, and we have similar interests, and you…” he hesitated, glancing down at his hands before he stubbornly returned his eyes to Blaine’s.  “You seem to want to take care of me,” he finished softly.

“I do,” Blaine said, with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“I want to do this thing.  Us.” Kurt said.  “I know I’m young, and so much of life is uncertain.  But I suspect I’m a committed-monogamist type, and I’m… I’m ready to jump into that.  With you.  If you’ll have me.”

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he found he couldn’t speak.

“We already know we can live together peacefully,” Kurt joked weakly.  “And I’ll, umm.  I’m eighteen in May.  That’s just five months.”

“I would love to be with you, Kurt.” Blaine said at last.  Their hands slid together in the middle of the table, though Blaine barely noticed they were doing so until he felt the warm skin of Kurt’s palm next to his.  “There are things we’ll have to talk about with our, umm, situation.  It will have to be a secret, for one.  This is new for you, so we’ll want to move slowly—“

“Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Let’s just enjoy dinner, hmm?”

“Sure.”

Like clockwork, their food arrived.  They parted hands reluctantly, though the enticing smell of his stew provided some motivation.

“This looks amazing,” he told Kurt.

Kurt merely smirked.  “I know food, Anderson.  You stick with me and you’re in for a treat.”

They happily dug in, the conversation dwindling somewhat as they ate.  But by the time their forks clinked over the last bite of cheesecake Crème Brule, Blaine felt so contentedly consumed by Kurt and his smile and his eyes, his laugh and his wit and the easy banter they shared, that he no longer had it within his heart to deny or belittle what was happening between them.

He was falling in love with this boy, full throttle… the consequences be damned.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the delay. I think I jinxed myself by giving you an idea of how often I'd update, and of course things got busy and it didn't happen like I wanted it to. This chapter is more talking, sorry, but I think you'll find some interesting things happen too. It's a little longer than the rest, so hopefully that helps you forgive me!

Kurt woke up dry the next morning, thankfully, because after his date with Blaine last night he’d felt more adult than ever, and putting on a diaper simply hadn’t seemed right.  He regretted it now just a little, because he did have to go and it would be nice if he could just _go_ , but it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t hold it.  And aside from that, it was a perfect morning.  He was perfectly warm and cozy under his blankets, still buzzing with happiness over the mere thought of the night before, content to lie here and bask for long, long moments.

The entire evening had been fantastic, but the part that made his toes curl now and his body tingle, made him want to positively squeal with glee was _the kiss_.

Blaine’s smiling mouth in the moonlight in the park after dinner, leaning up to brush with his, barely-there then deeper, more.  Blaine’s warm, moist tongue tracing the lines of his lips, dipping inside, twining with his; his splayed hands on Kurt’s face, the back of his neck; the way they’d moved together and their bodies strove to press together through the thick layers of their coats.  Kurt couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed anyone (his father, no, not a thought for this morning) that far into his personal space.  But it had been amazing.  It had been so, so worth it.

He couldn’t wait to do it again.

Apparently, his toes and his fluttering heart weren’t the only parts of him to react to the memory.  His cock lay half-hard and growing heavier by the second against his thigh.  Kurt sucked in a breath, closed his eyes and lost himself in the phantom feeling of Blaine’s kiss, his fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of his favorite silk pajama pants to _touch_.

It wasn’t like he’d never done this before, or even done it while thinking about Blaine, or even done it in this _house_ while thinking about Blaine, but it was something he tried not to indulge in very often because treating his body, himself, as a sexual being was something that still made him vaguely uncomfortable.

But not now, not today… it was as if Blaine had awoken something deep within him with a simple touch of his lips, the dance of his fingertips across Kurt’s winter-cold skin.  Kurt felt powerful, desirable, and he definitely wanted more.

He took himself in hand, squeezing lightly, getting a feel for it, setting the fantasy of Blaine’s eyes, Blaine’s grip, firmly in his mind.  He whimpered, fisting his sheets, as the hand began to move.

Young and desperate as he was, it was over in a matter of minutes.  He lay there, panting his way down from his high, and was only just beginning to lazily reach for a tissue when there was a knock at his door.

“Just a minute!” Kurt squeaked, rushing to clean himself and hide the evidence.  “Okay,” he called a moment later, “you can come in.”

It was Blaine, of course it was, smiling and carrying a tray of French toast.  “Oh my, you’re the best!” Kurt declared, sitting up and reaching for it eagerly, not even caring how it looked when he dug in, closing his eyes as the flavor of his favorite blueberry syrup burst on his tongue.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed and watched him eat.  “I’m glad you like it,” he said with a chuckle.

“It’s divine,” Kurt admitted.  “Almost as good as mine.  Did you get some?”

Blaine nodded.  “I already ate.  I thought we could both use some decent fuel before our talk.”

Just like that, Kurt’s good mood deflated.  “This early?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said.  “We need to be smart about this, Kurt.  And I have to be at the shop in an hour.”

Kurt groaned.  “So let’s talk,” he said, more bravely than he felt.  The bathroom could wait a little longer.

***

Blaine swallowed thickly.  He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation any more than Kurt was, but he knew it needed to happen.  “First of all, we need to establish some boundaries for our relationship, since we live together and I’m legally your guardian.  I want to be your boyfriend, but I can’t just stop being your parent, Kurt.  There are some times and some ways you’ll still have to be accountable to me.”

“I’m seventeen,” Kurt said stubbornly.  “I was hardly accountable to my father before he died.”

“You didn’t have a curfew?  An allowance?  Chores that needed to be done?”  Slowly, Kurt nodded.  “And you have all of those things with me.  And you’ll still have them.”

“Last night we stayed out past curfew,” Kurt pointed out.

“But you were with me,” Blaine said.  “That’s different.”

“I was with you as my date, not as my guardian.”

“Are you trying to give me to reason to set limits on our date-nights?” Blaine said with a teasing smile.

Kurt set his empty plate down on the nightstand, crossed his arms, and glared.  Blaine thought he looked rather adorable.  “Point,” he said stiffly.

“Kurt, I’ve given this a lot of thought,” Blaine told him.  “It’s not going to be a perfect science, there’s not going to be a magic formula, and we’ll have to figure out a lot as we go along.  But I did come up with a few ground rules to start us off.”

“Such as?”

“Don’t be like that,” Blaine pleaded with him.  He reached into his pocket to pull out the folded piece of paper he’d written his list on the night before and handed it to Kurt.  “Most of these are negotiable.”

He watched as Kurt skimmed the list, then began to read from it out loud.  “Number one: Establish two date nights each week, with set hours, to have strictly ‘boyfriend time.’”  He smiled.  “Well, I like the sound of that one.”

Blaine nodded.  “I was thinking Tuesdays and Saturdays.  I know you have Glee Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so that should give us the most time given how long it takes you to get ready.”

“I like that,” Kurt said.  “But what about the rest of the time?”

“Number two,” Blaine said, gesturing to the list with his head.

“Other periods of ‘boyfriend time’ as requested.  I have to request for you to be my boyfriend?”

“It’s not quite like that,” Blaine said, “but I was just thinking—what’s the normal way these things work?  You might see a new boyfriend a few times a week and talk to them on the phone every night, or whenever you feel like it.  I want you to have that, Kurt, but we live together, so… that complicates things.  This is still very, very new, and I don’t want to remove myself from the ‘father’ role entirely, either.  You still might need me in that capacity.”

“You are _not_ my father,” Kurt said sharply.

“I know,” Blaine groaned.  “This isn’t going well.  You know that’s not what I meant.  Of course I’m not… I mean, that would be weird, wouldn’t it?  And of course I could never replace Burt.”

Kurt winced at the name, shutting his eyes tightly.  Blaine waited patiently until he opened them again.  “I’m sorry I snapped like that,” he said.  “I concede your point.”

Blaine nodded, gently taking the list from Kurt’s hands.  “Number three,” he read, “unless ‘boyfriend time’ is in play, we will strictly function as friends and guardian/ward.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Really?  That’s never going to work.  Don’t you want to cuddle on the couch with me when we’re watching TV?  Hold hands at the breakfast table?  Kiss hello and goodbye?”

Blaine sighed.  “You’re right.  This is just—it’s just unusual.  I don’t feel good about it.”

“You don’t feel good with me?” Kurt asked, mock-pouting, and Blaine gave him an exasperated look.  “How about this,” Kurt said.  “We play it by ear.  We’re boyfriends—all the time—but we’re careful to respect each other’s privacy, and I’ll agree to respect your authority over me when reasonable… at least to the degree I would have before.”

“What if you do something stupid, and I have to discipline you?  Won’t that mess with our relationship?”

“No,” Kurt said firmly.  “We keep that separate, when necessary.  We feel what we feel, we talk about everything—especially how we feel—and we keep the date nights.  I like that one.”

“I don’t give you enough credit,” Blaine said, looking at him with admiration.  “Alright, if we’re agreed then.  That’s how we’ll play it.”  He crumbled up the piece of paper, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

“This isn’t a game, Blaine.  And I’m not a child.  I can think for myself.” 

“Of course you can,” Blaine agreed.  “I think you’re amazing, Kurt.  Truly.”

Kurt smiled at him, and Blaine felt a little bit better.  There was a lot of grey here, yes, but they could do this.  Kurt may be a teenager, but he was smart; he could help.  They could be a team.

He reached for Kurt’s hand, squeezing his fingers.  “I know you’re not a child,” he said.  “But we do need to talk about—“

“—the diapers,” Kurt finished for him, much to Blaine’s surprise.  He leaned back, shifting his legs to cross them beneath the blanket, and looked at Blaine pointedly.  “Why don’t you talk about how much you like them?”

So _that_ was how this was going to go.  Blaine took a deep breath.  “I’ve never talked to anyone about it before, at least not in person.  But… yeah.  It started in college.  I was browsing through some porn, and there was this video of people wetting.  Not even diapers at first, but… I liked it.  I, umm… I got off to it.  And it just kept going, I guess, and when I discovered the whole ABDL thing, that’s what I sought out when I wanted to… it’s not _just_ that, though.  I promise.  When I’ve been in relationships, or with other guys, things have been completely normal.  I never thought I even _wanted_ the reality of it… not until you.”

Kurt looked thoughtful, a small frown on his face.  “What’s ABDL?” he asked.

“It, umm, stands for Adult-Baby-Diaper-Lovers,” Blaine confessed.  His cheeks were hot, surely bright red, though Kurt seemed not to notice.

“So you want me to be… a baby?” Kurt’s voice was tentative, scared.

“I never really discriminated,” Blaine was quick to explain.  “I mean, I guess I like all of it.  The wetting and the… the messing—but not, like, playing with it—and yes, the baby play can be nice.  I’ve never really examined it too closely, but I guess what I like about it is the surrender, the complete loss of control.”

Waiting for Kurt to respond felt a bit like waiting for a death row sentence, Blaine imagined.  There were oh-so-many ways this could go wrong.

His palms began to sweat.

“So, just to be clear,” Kurt said at last.  “This is something you want from others, right?  From me.  You don’t want to do it yourself?”

Blaine shrugged.  “I always just read about it, jerked off to it… it never really occurred to me to try it myself.  But then, seeing you… It was hot.”

“I don’t know quite what you want from me,” Kurt said.  “And I’m even less sure of what I can give you.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Blaine assured him, scooting closer.  “And even if you did, I wouldn’t want it to be our whole life.  Maybe seeing you in diapers is what woke me up to _desiring_ you, yeah, but it was just forcing me to confront what was already hidden there.  And the emotions… well… they had been there for a while, too.”  He studied Kurt closely.  “I need to know how _you_ feel about this.  About what’s been happening to you, my role in it, where you want it to go.  Please be honest.  There are no wrong answers here.”

Kurt was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke again, it was very careful and deliberate, his flushed face the only thing betraying his nerves.  “I didn’t start… using them… on purpose.  It was humiliating, and it wasn’t deliberate, you know that.  But now it kind of is.  I like it, the comfort of it, the… the lack of control.  I like that _you_ like it.  I’m not sure it’s a sexual thing for me, but I do like wearing them, and using them—sometimes—and I like the thought that you gave them to me, like you were taking care of me.”

Blaine nodded.  “So are we… are we gonna keep doing this?”

Kurt blushed impossibly deeper, but nodded.  “I’d like to, if you’d like to.  Just… slowly.  Like the rest of our relationship.  Do you want… do you want to see it again?”

“Yes,” Blaine said in a breath.  He wanted that so badly, it was almost embarrassing.  “I promise I’ll be more appropriate this time.”

“I didn’t mind so much,” Kurt confessed.  “I’ll, umm.  I’ll need more of them soon.”

“Of course,” Blaine said.  “That’s not a problem.”

They stared at each other, and things were just beginning to feel really, really awkward, when Kurt blurted out, “It’s getting late, you should go.  And I need to _go_ go, only I’m not wearing anything, and it’s starting to become a problem, so… you should kiss me first.”

Blaine felt himself stirring, just a bit, at the mere mention that Kurt was desperate right now.  “Of course,” he said, and brought their lips together.  Kurt’s rules were the best rules, if it meant he could have more of this.

Their second kiss was just as perfect as the first.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! I got a bit caught up with other writing projects, but they're more or less through now so hopefully I'll be able to devote more time to this :-) Thank you for your patience and kind words of support, and I hope everyone had a lovely holiday.

They had their first “date night” later that day when Blaine got back from the shop, this time ordering takeout and spending their time eating at the coffee table while they ignored the TV in the background, chatting and sharing bits of Chinese food.  There was a tickle fight and more easy kissing, _good_ kissing, but nothing that got too heated… not yet.  Kurt went to bed Saturday night feeling just as content as he had the night before.

Sunday was a little different, with both of them making some effort to spend time separately even though they wanted nothing more than to be together.  Shared time became a necessity anyway when Blaine announced that they needed to go grocery shopping, and they spent their time at the store hand-in-hand, choosing the food and planning meals together.  They shared the stove when they got home, preparing a delicious but simple dinner, and ended up spending the rest of the night cuddling on the couch while watching reality TV. 

Monday, when Kurt had school and Blaine of course had to work, was their first true time apart since they’d agreed to be a couple, and even though they spent most of the week in separate places _every_ week, it still felt different, now.  Kurt found himself longing for home and for Blaine all through his classes, only to find a voicemail saying Blaine needed to work late on his phone when he arrived home… and a new package of diapers on his bed.

Kurt hadn’t worn one again since Thursday night, his accidents apparently a thing of the past.  But now he felt a spark of desire, a shiver of arousal, just looking at the bag.  He liked that he could control it now, that it wasn’t all the time… but apparently, as they had acknowledged, it was a _thing_.

He decided he’d wear one again tonight and—hopefully—have something to surprise Blaine with in the morning.

Kurt decided to do a little homework, then cook dinner to have ready for Blaine when he got home.  When seven o’clock came and went he ended up eating by himself, and was just finishing up when an exhausted and haggled-looking Blaine came through the door.  Kurt moved automatically to fix him a plate.  “Rough day?” he asked as Blaine took a seat at the table.

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, almost drooling at the plate Kurt set in front of him.  “Better now, though.”

They exchanged smiles, and Blaine tugged Kurt close to kiss his cheek.  “Thank you,” he said.

Kurt sat with him as he ate, one hand on his knee.  He loved this so much; the quiet domesticity of it, even though it was nothing like he might have imagined for his first relationship. 

Blaine was practically asleep by the time he’d finished his food.  “Shower then bed,” Kurt ordered, taking the plate from him.

“You’re a godsend,” Blaine returned.  “Thank you.”

Blaine slipped into his room later that night for a tight hug before they both separated and turned in.  When he left, Kurt slid off his pajama bottoms and underwear and fixed himself into a diaper, thrilling at the way the soft padding felt against his skin, at the thought of how Blaine might react to seeing it in the morning.

Content, he drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning Blaine woke refreshed, having slept like a log thanks to his extreme exhaustion.  Now he found he had plenty of energy, and hurried down to make a nice breakfast for Kurt.  He liked cooking best in the mornings when the meals were relatively simple, and today pancakes and eggs sounded perfect.

He used the organic, whole-grain mix Kurt had picked out, humming to himself and keeping an eye on the skillet as he chopped up some strawberries to go on top.  When he heard Kurt’s soft footsteps, he didn’t turn around, focused on his task.

But then arms were sliding around his waist, Kurt’s lips just-brushing against the back of his neck as he pressed their bodies together, and… oh.  Blaine could feel it there, the bulge of a diaper through Kurt’s pajama bottoms.  He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you…?” he began to ask, pivoting to face him.

Kurt was practically smirking, so different from the last time he had done this.  “Not yet.”

Blaine placed the knife carefully on the cutting board and turned, settling his hands on Kurt’s hips and tugging Kurt back up against him, this time with their fronts touching.  There was no way he could feel anything sexual through _that_ , but the diaper was almost as good, what he was truly after right now.

“Do it,” Blaine said, meeting Kurt’s eyes.  “Let go, baby.  Just like this.”

Kurt murmured a soft _“okay”_ and his eyes fluttered closed, his cheeks slightly pinking, and…

And Blaine could feel it, slow but sure, the material growing bigger against him, causing certain parts of his own anatomy to grow in return, until it was all he could do not to thrust up against Kurt.  _Keep it clean now, Blaine,_ he warned himself, gritting his teeth.

After a few moments, Kurt’s head fell against his shoulder, and Blaine rubbed his back.  “All finished, sweetheart?” he asked.  Blaine had never been one for terms of endearment before, but for some reason it felt natural when they were like this, with Kurt putting so much trust in him.  It made Blaine almost high with the urge to take care of him.

When Kurt nodded against his shoulder, Blaine wrapped his arms around him completely, simply holding him close.  Then an unwelcome smell itched at his nose, and he pulled back abruptly.  “The pancakes! I forgot about…”

They were salvageable, thankfully, and Kurt stayed and helped him stack them onto plates and then crack the eggs into the pan.  “Don’t you want to change?” Blaine suggested tentatively.

Kurt shrugged but said, “Yeah.  Yeah, I probably should.  It gets uncomfortable after a while.”  He kissed Blaine briefly, adding a quick, “I’ll be down soon,” and then disappeared back through the doorway that led to the stairs.

***

It was like that for the next few weeks.  Kurt didn’t do it every morning, only every two or three days, but it was nice when it happened.  He got comfortable. 

Their relationship was progressing as well, and Kurt was enjoying that immensely.  They’d advanced from kissing to more intense kissing to making out, lips roaming to necks, hands roaming to relatively safe areas over clothing.  He wasn’t sure when he would be ready for more, and Blaine was sweet enough not to push.  They were still getting to know each other in this new way, finding more and more than they clicked well, enjoyed each other’s company.

The line between their legal arrangement and their relationship had begun to blur, boundaries long agreed upon not forgotten, but simply not enforced.  Kurt didn’t want time away from Blaine.  He craved him—his presence, his lips, his laughter, the comfort and safety he had come to represent.  Blaine was the total package, and the closer they grew, the easier it was for Kurt to push his grief over his father to the back of his mind.

School days were spent anticipating the evenings, and it was all he could do to stay on top of his classes.  He managed it, though.  And then something unexpected and completely unwelcome happened.

Dave Karofsky hadn’t been a problem now for over a year.  They had co-existed peacefully at school with minimal contact ever since Santana’s bully-whips campaign, and that arrangement suited Kurt just fine. 

Then when he’d gotten back to school this year, Karofsky’s interest in Kurt had been a bit more noticeable.  Kurt felt his eyes on him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the locker room during gym class.  He was able to ignore it just fine, until Dave approached him just a few weeks before his father’s heart attack, and sweetly and with a tangible amount of anxiety asked him on a date.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt had said, his heart aching for the boy even as he felt the smallest flutter of queasiness in his stomach.  “I’m just not interested in a relationship right now, Dave.  I’d like to focus on school.”

“Is it because I’m not…”—he lowered his voice to a whisper, despite the relatively vacant halls—“I’m not out?  Or… or because of what I did?”

Kurt shook his head, even though—if he were honest—it was at least a little bit about both of those things.  “I can’t right now.  I’m trying to get into a special college, and Glee club is taking a lot of time.  But we can be friends?”

Dave had looked so crestfallen, it had almost been enough for Kurt to change his mind.  “Sure.  Friends.” He gave an awkward, forced smile.  “I’ll see you around, Kurt.”

And that had been that.  They hadn’t been friends.  Dave had ignored him almost completely…

Until now.

Kurt startled as a hand reached around him from behind, slamming his locker door shut.  “Hummel,” a voice said.  Kurt recognized it immediately, even more so because it wasn’t kind or meek like the last time they’d spoken.

He took a deep breath and spun around.  “David,” he acknowledged.

It was like the old Karofsky was back again; the way he was looking at Kurt caused a shiver of fear to tingle up Kurt’s spine.  “I saw you,” he said.  “I was in the next town with my dad, and we stopped to eat and I saw you there with some guy.  Dark hair.  Surely you remember.”

“You must be mistaken,” Kurt said, as coolly as he could muster. 

“I know what I saw,” Karofsky insisted, looming closer.  “You told me you didn’t want a relationship, Kurt.  You told me you were focusing on school!”

“And I’m telling you now there’s no one, not that it’s any of your business.  Now if you’ll excuse me…” Kurt held his head high and made to pass him, but Karofsky remained firmly in place for several long seconds, until finally he scoffed and walked away.

Kurt exhaled slowly, clutching his books to his chest, and forced himself to walk ahead to class.

***

The encounter with Karofsky stayed with him all through the day, but he stubbornly denied that anything was wrong when Blaine asked that evening, simply saying that school was a little stressful and he was feeling extra-affectionate.  Blaine bought the excuse and provided, as always, only the best of cuddles as they watched a couple Disney movies in the living room.

It was all Kurt could do when it was time to part for bed not to beg Blaine to sleep in his room… or better yet, allow Kurt to sleep in his.  It was something very different from anticipation that caused him to put on a diaper that evening, making a nest for himself in his blankets and even pulling one of his old stuffed animals down from the shelf to cuddle.

It helped a little.  He fell into a deep sleep.

Kurt was a bit surprised in the morning to find that he was still dry.  He had feared that his uneasy state would bring about another accident, but apparently those days really were over, which was great… wasn’t it?

He found Blaine waiting for him in the kitchen as always, this time just with cereal, a magazine open on the table before him.  “Good morning!” he said brightly to Kurt.

Kurt didn’t speak, simply went to him and climbed onto his lap, Blaine giving a surprised “oomph” as his weight settled.  They fidgeted around for a bit before they were both comfortable, Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and tilting their heads together.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Blaine said.  “But what’s this for?”

Kurt didn’t feel like talking, though.  He felt better now, safer in Blaine’s arms.  Wiggling pointedly downward—because even if he wasn’t in a particularly sexual mood, he knew Blaine would enjoy it more if he was clued into the situation—he slowly relaxed his bladder, an involuntarily whimper escaping his mouth as the warm liquid flowed from him into the absorbent cotton.

“Oh sweetheart,” Blaine gasped, and Kurt could feel a growing pressure just against the edge of his thigh.  “Oh…”

When it was over he simply stayed in place, not wanting to look at Blaine, just wanting to feel him, feel this.  He didn’t want to think too much, not now.  In particular, he didn’t want to think about the fact that in just a few minutes, he would be forced to get ready for school.

Sure enough, Blaine spoke up after a few moments.  “I love this,” he said.  “But Kurt, it’s getting a little la—“

Kurt shut him up with a kiss, soft and lingering.  When they pulled back, he looked into Blaine’s eyes, and the words that fell from his lips next were completely unplanned.

“Blaine… Will you change me?” 


End file.
